


Interlude: A Suitable Suitor

by Claranon



Series: The Princess and the Knight [7]
Category: Dragon Quest Series, Dragon Quest XI
Genre: And I like making Hendrik suffer in new and exciting ways but what else is new, F/M, I just like writing certain characters okay, I like writing them a LOT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 02:57:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18044153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claranon/pseuds/Claranon
Summary: (A missing scene fromA Knight to Remember.)Hendrik and a certain someone have a little chat, man-to-…man.





	Interlude: A Suitable Suitor

**Author's Note:**

> I blame this entirely on my husband, who in response to my lamenting that I couldn't fit this scene into the fic proper due to pacing reasons, told me to "just write it anyway".

The fields of Costa Valor, long known for their lush, verdant beauty, had become a place of quiet tranquility since the destruction of Calasmos. Hendrik often ranged far with Obsidian on his daily rides, enjoying the feel of the sun on his face and the scent of the sea on the air. He even found himself stopping at times to linger by some picturesque pond or stream while his faithful mount sampled the local flora with a look of contented bliss on his face.

The area was, unsurprisingly, no less splendid at night. An endless canopy of stars bedecked the sky above and a night breeze stirred curious fireflies in their amusements. Yggdrasil’s eternal presence glowed in the distance, no less reassuring to any traveller than the intermittent illumination of the lighthouse on the edge of the cliff. It was, in truth, one of the more peaceful settings in all Erdrea—that is, until crashed into by one very loud, very determined, very _enthusiastic_ prince.

“Which way did they go?” Prince Faris cried. He ran this way and that, desperately looking around trees and behind rocks. “We _must_ locate and defeat the demons so that they may terrorize this town no longer!”

Hendrik crossed his arms as he stopped to take stock of the situation. “You have far more experience with this coast than I, Sylvando,” he said, addressing his fellow knight. “Do you know of any trails or hidden shelters nearabouts?”

Sylvando thought for a moment, tapping a finger on his cheek while he peered into the darkness. “Well-ll-ll,” he replied, drawing the word out exaggeratedly, “there _used_ to be a pathway down the side of the cliff when I was a boy. Papi always forbid me from going there due to the monsters, but now…”

“But now, that would make the _perfect_ place for a demon to hide!” Prince Faris finished triumphantly. “It is as I always say: when one monster moves out, another must surely move in! Ha ha!”

Hendrik gave him a sidelong look while Sylvando smiled, a trifle indulgently. “Of course, Princey-poo,” he told the boy. “Be a dear and wait here with Hendrik while I go find the entrance, okay?”

Prince Faris waved an imperious hand at the man. “Yes, but be quick! And if you _do_ find the demons, do not keep them all to yourself! Sir Hendrik and I would like some share of the glory, would we not?”

Hendrik grunted, not trusting himself to reply. Sylvando gave him a wink before departing, and he soon disappeared among the trees.

The prince picked up a long stick and started fencing with a nearby boulder. While he occupied himself thusly, mock battle cries filling the air, Hendrik wandered over to the edge of the cliff to survey the area down below. The lights of Puerto Valor shone in the distance and he could hear waves battering the distant rocky shore. He squinted into the darkness, fidgeting with the unnatural lightness of the knife at his belt. Could it be possible the demons’ lair resided in some cove or other such natural fissure? The height was too great to ascertain from here, but…

“Sir Hendrik?” came Prince Faris’s voice from behind him, apparently having abandoned his duel; in a battle between the prince and a stationary rock, Hendrik could not but see some ambiguity as to the winner.

“Yes, Your Highness?” he asked distractedly, still examining the side of the cliff. Perhaps there was no hiding place at all—some type of water demons?

The prince cleared his throat. “You are close to Princess Jade of Heliodor, are you not?”

All thoughts of demons and their potential strongholds screeched to a halt. Indeed, all thoughts of _any_ sort appeared to have abandoned Hendrik’s head in totality. He turned quickly to the prince, eyes wide.

“What?” he demanded, voice ringing out loudly in the calm night air. It was quite possibly the most shockingly impolite behaviour he had ever exhibited to a member of a royal house of Erdrea, and he knew he would chastise himself strongly later; but at that moment, he was helpless to conjure up any further presence of mind.

Prince Faris visibly shrank back at this unexpected curtness. “I…I only…” he stammered, nervously twisting the stick in his hands. “I meant, that I had heard once, that you…”

Hendrik mentally shook himself, and added a firm cuff alongside. “I apologize for my tone, Your Highness,” he replied, inclining his head in a small bow. “You merely…startled me.”

“Oh.” The prince gave him one last wary look and then straightened up again. “Oh! Of course. No apology is necessary, Sir Hendrik,” he said, waving one generous hand in the air. “Even the bravest of knights can be struck with fear in their hearts at the abrupt sight of a worthy adversary!”

Hendrik ground his teeth together—hard—and made the deliberate decision to let that pass. “As to your question, Your Highness,” he continued, “I have known Princess Jade since she was a girl. It is with great honour that I am able to count myself among her trusted advisers.”

A fresh twist of pain, then, at the sudden reminder that this distinction might no longer hold true. Aside from the grave impropriety of his behaviour, could it ever be possible for his future queen to put her faith in a knight who had shown such weakness of discipline and restraint?

Hendrik’s torturous musings were interrupted by the prince’s next query. “So, then…do you know if she has yet chosen a husband?” he asked, earnest trepidation shining from his eyes.

Prince Faris seemed to have an uncanny ability to volley those exact questions as inflicted the most damage possible to his companion. Hendrik almost wished they could instead continue their earlier discussion on the merits of axes versus greatswords, as ill-informed as the prince’s opinions had been.

“As far as I am aware, she has not,” he replied tightly, his hands clenched into fists. For reasons surpassing his understanding, Lieutenant Carver’s face flashed into his mind; the knight once more wished he had taken the time to enact disciplinary measures against the man before his departure.

“Ah,” the prince said, sagging with relief. Then he straightened again and puffed out his chest. “Of course, I could only expect so, given the bravery and skill required for the tasks she laid out in her letter!”

Hendrik blinked. “Tasks, Your Highness?”

“Yes, the tasks!” Prince Faris cried, looking at Hendrik as though he were mad. “The ancient challenges a suitor must overcome to qualify for marriage to a Princess of Heliodor!”

The prince started ticking off a count on his fingers. “One must defeat a fearsome foe deep within a treacherous cavern, become glorious victor of the Masked Martial Arts tournament, tame a ferocious steed as no other man has done, save a ruling monarch from certain death by vicious monsters…”

Hendrik stared, quite unable to formulate a coherent thought, as the prince continued: “…demonstrate ability to grow such facial hair as befitting a man of status—though, as Princess Jade assured me in her letter, _keeping_ it afterward is not strictly necessary—and lastly, defeat the princess herself in single-handed combat!”

Prince Faris paused, one finger still on his outstretched hand. “I must confess, I understood all but the facial hair. Why would the ancient monarchs of Heliodor demand such a thing?”

A brief pause, as Hendrik attempted to rally his mind into service again. “I…do not think any of us can fathom what the esteemed kings and queens of Heliodor intended,” he said in a slightly strangled voice. “Perhaps the exact translation was lost, throughout the years.”

“Perhaps,” the prince frowned. His expression shifted, then, and he once more beamed up at Hendrik. “You can see, however, that the conditions are such that I am unlikely to encounter a suitable rival soon, if ever! Ha!”

Prince Faris dramatically threw his cape back for the benefit of the fireflies who comprised his audience; they did not seem to any measurable degree impressed.

“Your Highness,” Hendrik started, with a delicacy borne from years of diplomatic training, “I would in no way wish to put a damper on your…enthusiasm, but do you not think your age might be some impediment to the princess? She is, after all, somewhat older than yourself.”

“I am a Prince of Gallopolis!” the young man stated, aghast at the very idea. “I came of age the day I, er, won the Sand National and proved myself a worthy heir to the throne! _Any_ woman would be proud to claim my hand in marriage!”

The prince looked Hendrik up and down with a squint. “It is not as though she would be marrying someone with—with such an age difference as you and she, for example. You are approaching fifty, are you not?”

“Thirty-six,” Hendrik replied through gritted teeth.

Prince Faris waved that away. “The point remains. It is a good thing I need not count _you_ among my rivals, Sir Hendrik! I would _almost_ fear for my chances! Ha ha!”

Hendrik was spared the necessity of a reply by the return of Sylvando. The man had a strange smile on his face, and the knight had a brief moment of panic wondering what, if anything, he had heard of the conversation.

“ _There_ you are, darlings! I found the path down the cliffside,” Sylvando informed them. “It’s a bit dark, so we’ll have to be careful not to have a _whoopsie_ , okay?”

“Then onward we go, toward victory against demons most foul!” Prince Faris cried excitedly, all thoughts of marriage forgotten in an instant. “Lead the way, Sylvando!”

As they started off into the darkness, the prince marching ahead boldly, Sylvando sidled up next to Hendrik. “Having a nice man-to-man chat with our Princey-poo, honey?” he said innocently, his voice low.

Hendrik spared him a dark look. “How much did you overhear?” he asked bluntly.

“Enough to wonder exactly _how_ hard you want me to try to save our little prince if he loses his footing down there?” Sylvando grinned.

Hendrik, in a burst of madness that he would revisit later with prodigious shame, gave it a moment of serious thought. Then he shook his head and glared at his friend. “Do not speak such nonsense, Sylvando,” he said witheringly. “Come—let us put an end to this foolishness.”

The other knight laughed and clapped an affectionate hand on his shoulder, and together they followed the prince down along the cliff.


End file.
